


i think i want to miss you right now

by empires



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Amnesia, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Clubbing, Consensual Sex, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Fighting Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26171968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: The latest rumor is that Nightwing had been taken down by a lucky contractor. Jason didn’t believe it at first.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 10
Kudos: 143
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	i think i want to miss you right now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Airdanteine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airdanteine/gifts).



Jason’s standing on the platform above the dance floor when he sees him. Fucking Dick Grayson mindlessly grinding under the strobe lights after weeks without contact.

Rumor circles the city like the sweet river stink of a Gotham summer. The latest is that Nightwing had been taken down by a lucky contractor. Jason didn’t believe it at first. Batman and his sycophants played everything close to the vest and told him to stay the hell out of it. Nightwing had remained radio silent for a long time, long enough for those rumors to have Bludhaven’s finest test the waters only to be beaten back into the shadows. 

And now Dick is here partying like the world is on fire.

Turns out Jason was right not to worry. The only thing keeping the golden boy under wraps is another mission. It’s not surprising Dick couldn’t keep the single promise he’d ever made to Jason. _Just don’t do it again, don’t do this to your_ …. 

Fuck that guy.

Helpless anger inside Jason’s belly as he watches Dick from across the room. The longer he watches, the angrier he gets. There’s a threat in this room, and Dick doesn’t even seem to notice it glaring at him like a laser site. The longer he watches the harder it is to look away. The harder it is to look away, the more Jason starts to see things. Inconsistencies. The way Dick holds his shaved head differently when he throws his head back to laugh. The eagerness he trades partners, the way his mouth is more interested in moving to the next set of plush lips instead of gathering information from careless ones

Another two songs and Dick launches from the dance floor to the bar. He drinks a shot. Orders another round for the pretty girl beside him, and they hook arms, down their drinks and slam their mouths together before parting. Next, Dick goes to a lounge and settles into a mixed group of normal people and guys that barely made it into the club. They drink and laugh like friends, or at least known acquaintances, and it doesn’t look like Dick’s here for intel. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d say Dick is here for a good time except good times aren’t coming to him. No one seems to notice the slackness in Dick’s smile; the emptiness in his eyes. The girl lounging on his arm shrugs away his touch more and more. The group laughs, encouraging, calling for more drinks. Dick is getting louder with each round, his rough playfulness borders on violence. Jason watches Dick’s shoulders set, fist clenching and unclenching on his thigh. There's a storm brewing and Dick's seconds away from unleashing it.

Staying out of the family business is the only way to stay sane, but there’s no way he’s going to let it mess up his own legitimate business.

A tilt of his head sends the security towards the doors. Jason crosses the platform to the VIP balcony and heads down. There’s a loose ring of people around the lounge when Jason arrives. Dick’s at the center pushing away from a skinny member of the trust fund set who kneels on the floor choking.

“Don’t call me that!” Dick snaps.

“That’s enough! Everybody out of the lounge.” Jason’s voice cuts through the scene. The regulars know to get moving. Others try to gawk, but a quick glance sends them skittering away.

Dick’s eyes rake over him then return to the trust fund kid. That’s not a cue Jason’s familiar with. Maybe that look doesn’t mean anything. Why would Dick need help with that guy? He doesn’t even look like he’s seen the inside of a gym. 

Trust fund blinks back angry tears. “Jesus, Dick. Just because your sugar daddy got tired of you.” His head is rocked back by another blow.

Jason catches Dick’s arm before the next swing connects and spins Dick locking Dick’s arms up in a cage of his arms. Jason fights back a sneeze. “Did you dip yourself in cologne or something?”

“Let me go!”

“You’re lucky it’s me, dickface,” Jason says, before addressing the crowd again. “Somebody get this guy off the floor and clear out. Lounge is closed.”

One of the more enterprising club goers questions him. “Says who?”

Jason pierces her with a dark look. “Says the Red Hood.” A furtive movement catches Jason’s attention. He narrowly escapes Dick’s headbutt. He slaps an open palm against Dick’s ear grinning at the pained yelp. He readjusts his grip on Dick before marching him to the stairs.”

“You’re coming with me, hot shot.” 

“Hey! Hey!” A soft hand lands on Jason’s wrist, grip firm but not dangerous. He turns to find a curvy girl with long braids and wide eyes staring up at him. “Where are you taking him?” He tramps down a hysterical bark of laughter. 

“To my office. We’re going to have a talk about respecting the rules of my club.”

She circles around him and pulls out her phone. “I’ll call the police,” she warns. 

Jason laughs. “It won’t get you far, miss, but I won’t stop you.”

Dick stops struggling. “I’m alright, Bea,” he says. “You know I can take care of myself.”

“You say that every time, Ric Grayson. I don’t think I can believe it yet,” she says softly, and Jason’s brow shoots straight up. Of all the shitty aliases he has heard Dick use in his life, this one is clearly the worse.

“Just get home,” Dick urges. “I won’t be long.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, miss. Dickie and I go way back.” He staggers when Dick jerks in his arms. His entire body tenses and Jason’s follows, attuned to another bat sensing danger. 

“What is it?” Jason says, glancing around.

"Don't use that name." Dick warns.

“Don’t give me orders, you dick.” Jason does not hesitate to cross whatever line Dick tries to draw, keeps going because fuck Dick Grayson, the slippery fucking asshole who slips from out of his grasp and then there's pain blossoming from his cheek, a sting in his lips. Jason stumbles away holding his face. 

He looks up and finds Dick’s eyes on him. Everything else bleeds away. The girl is gone. The drinks are gone. The crowd is gone. All that remains is Dick breathing heavily, like he's run five miles, like he's rolled boulders uphill, like he went ten rounds with a UFC fighter when all he did was stand and punch Jason like the sucker he admits to being.

“You fucking asshole.” The grin barely curls on Dick’s mouth before Jason launches forward. It feels so good pressed against the flat of his hand. 

It was almost too easy. His punch. Quick, sure, but Dick's always been quicker. He didn't doge though, only stood there and took the punch, and now he's staring at Jason with a grin more wicked than before. Dick leaps at him and the fight begins in earnest.

There’s a scream and security starts herding people towards the exits. It’s Gotham, so only a third of the stragglers are attempting to find the source of the issue. The rest of them are complying no matter how drunk. 

It feels good to fight the bastard, Jason can admit it. They start in the lounge and brawl their way down the corridor and into Jason’s offices with little effort. He catalogues more differences. Dick doesn’t flow between his aerial attacks and his favorite fighting styles. He’s not using his full strength but he’s also not pulling his punches. And he fights at an angle that rabidly protects his left side. It makes the fight predictable, a word he’s never associated with Dick Grayson. 

Jason ducks a punch and a high kick before Dick catches him with a palm strike along his jaw. If the angle had been different or the strength focused, Jason would’ve been out for the count. 

“You look a little shaky, big guy. Gonna tap out?”

"I'm fine," Jason mutters, wiping at his mouth. There is blood on his fingertips. 

Dick beckons him with three fingers, and Jason growls, lunging forward. Two moves puts Dick on his knees. That’s when Jason sees it. A jagged scar running along the side of Dick’s head. The skin is still an angry red at the center but the rest of the wound is healing. 

It’s horrifying. Jason’s hand starts moving without thought. “What happened to you?” 

His unwitting concern earns him a snap of sharp teeth around his fingers. Dick looks up at him with a look of unrecognizable fury in his eyes. It’s feral and protective and not Dick Grayson at all. He smacks Dick then, the flat of his palm against the cut of that perfect fucking cheekbone then nurses his bleeding fingers. 

Color flares across Dick’s skin. His pupils are blown, his cheeks rosy peach, the color of this heat between them. Dick moans. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

Startled, Dick glances up, lips pulling tight to study him--finally, finally something is familiar--then Dick laughs and the unsettling feeling returns in full force. “They didn’t tell you?

“I’m Ric Grayson.”

Dick--or is it Ric?--leaps. It comes out between blows. The shooting. The coma. The amnesia. The treatment. The break with the family. The lies. Jason doesn’t understand the lies spilling from Dick’s mouth. Ric’s mouth as he explains the reasons why he had to leave the people he’s loved most. Bruce, Barbara, Damian, Alfred. How they look at him differently. How he can tell they don't trust him now, because he's not who they remembered. Every word sounds like it has been penned from Jason’s own wounded heart. 

They struggle against each other, bodies crashing together, and Jason aches all over. He reaches out but Dick throws off Jason’s hands. He stares at Jason like he's never seen him before. 

“I like this,” Ric whispers. “Why the fuck do I like this? From you.” He lunges at Jason, fast and familiar, but it’s also different. Dick’s just moving on instinct. Without intent to guide him, it’s more of a tough scuffle than a real fight. Nothing like Nightwing at his best, but he still catches Jason, runs a hand up his thigh. Laughs again. “You like this too, don’t you, big guy?”

"No," Jason shoves him away, back against the wall so hard the wall hangings rattle and Dick moans, shaking through the pain. His lashes flutter, his tongue licks over his lips savoring, his eyes drift down to the hard line straining Jason’s pants.

“Is this how we know each other?” Ric asks. “Every single fiber in my being wants you to touch me. Hard, deep, rough. It makes no sense.”

Jason fends off another hand. “We barely even talk. You don’t even like me.”

“Maybe he doesn’t, but I like you just fine.” Ric slides his arms over Jason’s shoulders and tilts his head up. “I want you. What do you want?”

Something so gentle as this kiss shouldn’t hurt this much.

Jason wants Dick almost exactly like this; unrestrained and uncollared with none of the shiny bullshit surrounding him. He wants Dick to stop pretending that he doesn’t understand Jason or that Jason understands him. He wants all of this exactly like this except. He wants Dick Grayson not this thing that looks like him but doesn't move quite like him or talk quite like him or fight quite like him.

It's like walking into a room and all your belongings have been moved a quarter inch to the left. Or finding your favorite movie has been digitally altered and all the actors' pores are on full display. It’s the incongruity of laughing when afraid, of crying from joy, of having something you have always desperately longed for but told it’s only for a night. 

Dick never wanted him though.

Ric does.

Ric says something like, "you can if you want," maybe, "you can do anything you want," or, "you're hurting me, i don't want you to stop." Jason hears the words between feverish kisses. Hears them, feels them panted across his lips, but he can't get past the breathy whine of Ric's voice, high and begging. He’s never heard Dick sound like this, so lost and desperate for it. He knows with stunning clarity that if he let’s Dick (his name is Ric) go, the kid will fall straight to his knees. 

“Look at me. Look at me. Look what you're doing to me.” Ric moans again, mouth opening, the sound soft. His fingers scramble to his waistband and he unzips and unbuttons, shoves his pants down so Jason can see how hard he is, flushed and wet, wanting from the first taste of blood this evening.

Jason leans forward, all his weight pushing down on his forearm, down on Dick’s throat and Ric whines again, wet mouth opened, "Fuck, fuck," and reaches out with shaking hands. Stops suddenly and starts to cough, pink tongue curling out between his teeth, eyes watering. Jason doesn't realize what's going on at first and then he leans back a bit, shrugging his shoulders because he hadn't meant to that time.

“I didn't,” Jason licks his lips. “I didn't say you could touch me, right? So don't touch me.”

But it's Dick pushing back against the wall with his hands spread, like he's done something wrong and not Jason who is progressing from keeping the strangely submissive Ric Grayson off of him to inadvertently choking him to death. And the thing of it is, Ric nods, babbles a bit, wheezes out an apology. And how's that for a story? Something to add to the inappropriate remembrances Roy likes to take him on? Goldie made a play for me at a private party and then got off on me roughing him up a bit. Me? Nah, wasn’t really into it. Maybe a little bit, but he started begging see, I couldn't just walk away.

Jason stands straight, stands back, running a hand over the back of his head. He hears Ric start to plead at him as he makes his way over to the door, the same whine as before accented by a scraping sound, denim on wood or something.

“Don't. Fuck, don’t go. I'm sorry.” Ric whispers, voice breaking when Jason finally reaches the door. He goes silent after the lock snicks into place.

 _I couldn't walk away from the power_.

Couldn’t walk away from the familiar stranger still on his knees when Jason turns around and just like that he's hard, really hard, not the uncomfortable warmth from before when Ric sidled close, hand on his thigh, his waist, smiling into Jason's eyes and listening like the shit he had to say was special. None of Dick’s memories or mannerisms but he’s still able to pull people to him like flies to honey.

Ric stays down there when Jason walks back which is fine, is where he belongs, Jason thinks, unbuckling his belt. The zipper is ominous even to him. Ric shivers, neck down to his rear like a dog and he tosses his head a bit before he finally looks up to him, mouth already open. He watches Jason with dark, hungry eyes, every move he makes; tugging his fly open, pulling his cock free, stroking it over his mouth from base to the slick head. He steps forward until he's straddling Ric's face. Breath hot and wet over his taut skin, Jason closes his eyes and steps forward until he rests there, right there over that open mouth.

“Lick,” he says, voice as deep as it can get before he sounds scratchy. Sounds pretty good to him, commanding, and Ric whimpers before opening his mouth and sucking a fat, wrinkled bit of skin into his mouth, rocking Jason to his toes, because yeah, he'd always imagined Dick would take to this easily. But this right here is beyond his wildest imagination.

No matter who he is right now, Ric is a cocksucker, goes for it without any reservations, no shame, desperate for it, for Jason's cock, he's sucking his balls and swallowing his deep like it's his job, like he can't get enough, like he's auditioning for a position as the only person on his knees in Jason's life and fuck if Jason didn't think it were possible. This is why Jason has always told himself to stay away from Dick. He'd always imagined it would feel this good. He never imagined it that Ric would be the one to prove him right.

Jason shuffles back a little, tugging his shirt up and over his head so he can see all the way down the length of his body, pink nipples hard, stomach muscles twitching, cock gently waving right, right into Ric's mouth and it is every bit as perfect as he thought it would be. Eagerness flows off Ric in waves; he ducks forward suddenly mashing his forehead against Jason's belly and immediately gags, spit pooling up from beneath his tongue. But he finds his rhythm quickly and yeah, yeah, Ric's a little cocksucker. Jason tells him this, fingers sliding over his scalp and guiding him further down, calls Ric his little cocksucker and holds him over his dick while he comes, holds Ric even though he wiggles and moans what's probably his name. It feels like _Jason Jason Jason_ sobbed on his cock.

When he steps away, cock slapping over Ric's swollen lip, it's because his phone starts ringing. Not because of the way Ric began to weaken, eyes fluttering close, unable to suck in a breath, not that.

Ric falls against the wall, pale and red and, legs spread and chest heaving, his whine silent in his smile. It isn't until Jason makes it home that he recalls Ric's jeans looked damp in the crotch. 

The image sticks in his head for the rest of the night.


End file.
